


An Omega's Territory

by Omi_Lightbearer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Angst, Background Case, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Original Character(s), Pining Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Rivalry, Sex, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Threats of Violence, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omi_Lightbearer/pseuds/Omi_Lightbearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has passed for a Beta for years, and even John Watson is unaware of his flatmate's secondary gender. One day a potential rival shows up and Sherlock finds himself at a crossroads: shall he embrace his identity as an Omega and lose his work, or keep up the farce and lose John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sherlock looked at the tall stranger with ill-disguised annoyance that could very well evolve into downright animosity if he didn’t hold back. Whoever said only Alphas could be wary and aggressive when confronting rivals or defending their territory was an utter idiot. Omegas could very well do it too, even those who ─like Sherlock─ had tried really hard not to _be_ Omegas for a long period of time. Not that you could make it stop, or take it off like you would a shirt, but there were suppressants. Military grade, exclusive stuff only the higher-ups like his brother Mycroft could get hold of. Sherlock passed for a Beta and kept up a regular, 24/7 performance to that effect, but he still disliked the male Omega standing on their threshold.The man claimed to be an old acquaintance of John’s. _His_ John. That last bit wasn’t quite true since there was no romantic relationship to speak of, but Sherlock thought of his Alpha flatmate as his. He had John wrapped around his little finger and was still debating whether to reveal his true secondary gender or not, considering the trouble that might ensue. As they stood, things seemed about to take a turn for the worse.

‘John is at work,’ he said, curtly, refusing to let the stranger in just yet.

‘Do you mind if I wait for him? I’ve come a long way to see him.’ The man didn’t lose heart. On the contrary, he squared his shoulders, his chocolate brown eyes levelled with Sherlock’s, unblinking. _Military_ , Sherlock thought. An interesting deduction that was followed by many others. _Military or ex-military, more likely the second since his left foot seems to be supporting most of his weight_ _─it’s the way he shifts his position, as if he can’t stand completely still for a long time. Late thirties but not quite forty yet. Stubborn, determined ─jaw set, nostrils flared ever so slightly, eyes piercing. Couple of scars. Not in heat at the moment. There is more to his relationship with John that he’s letting on; he’s excited yet on guard. He views me as a threat; good, that makes two of us._

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in the span of three seconds, as he eyed the stranger carefully.

‘And your name is?’

‘Daniel Scott.’ 

‘You can wait inside if you like. It could be a while.’ Sherlock moved aside so he wasn’t blocking his view of the flat anymore. Dismissing him was not an option, since he’d probably contact John some other way, tell him about Sherlock’s behaviour and cost Sherlock a reprimand he was in no mood for.

‘Thank you.’ Daniel made his way towards the couch and sat very still, looking around. ‘So you are…’

‘Sherlock Holmes. I’m John’s flatmate.’ He was glad that he was wearing a suit, not one of his nightgowns. It wouldn’t do to confront a potential rival in a nightgown. He knew what the man must be thinking; he probably looked like an overreaching Beta who didn’t know his proper place and had impossible aspirations involving a particularly fine Alpha. _Good, think that. Make that mistake_. Sherlock took his phone and texted John quickly.

«There is a male Omega here who claims he’s an acquaintance of yours. His name is Daniel. -SH»

He held back the surname. If the man was, or had ever been, important to John, his first name would be enough.

«Daniel Scott? For real?»

Regrettably yes, it was very real. Sherlock felt a pang of jealousy and went to the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

«He looks military. An army friend? -SH»

«I’m on my way. Will explain later.»

Omegas weren’t allowed in the army. The risks of joining, even if they were on suppressants, were too great. The military swarm with Alphas, who unfailingly occupied all the high ranks, and Betas, who basically did the hard work and were paid much less. Omegas were considered weaker on account of their biology, valuable ─they were only a 2% of the population after all, so deaths had to be avoided at all costs─ and even dangerous, since the pheromones of an Omega in heat could wreak havoc on a camp, driving Alphas to tear each other apart if necessary in order to claim mating rights. Sherlock was not all that impressed, however, since he lived and worked in an Alpha-dominated world ─police, criminals, government officers─ himself and had managed to remain undetected. He hadn’t gone into heat in over eight years, and his scent was totally masked by the drugs, which acted on the glands on his neck and inner thighs.

Neither Sherlock nor Daniel tried to strike up a conversation. The detective poured him some tea ─John would probably appreciate his thoughtfulness─ and pretended to be busy checking something on his computer. Fifteen minutes later, John was standing at the door, looking at the stranger in amazement. He barely glanced at Sherlock; instead, he strode towards the other man, who had got on his feet, and shook his hand.

‘Daniel. It’s been so long,’ John said, grinning.

‘Captain Watson. John,’ the other man returned the smile, and craned his neck forward. Sherlock could almost feel the hair on his own nape bristling. They were smelling each other. He had never been able to inhale John’s strong Alpha scent; it was a side-effect of the meds. Scenting an Alpha would counteract the effects of the drugs and mess with his rational thinking badly. He felt jealous, and wished he could just step in, create some sort of barrier between these two men who had obviously been close at some point. It was rude to smell a stranger, or even an acquaintance, so blatantly. Only family members, close friends and lovers did it.

‘How long have you been back?’ John asked, standing just a bit closer than necessary. John was a doctor, and had more self-control than most, but the scent of an Omega was still intoxicating, and Sherlock couldn’t blame him for leaning forward to get more of it. John would like Sherlock’s scent too, if he was ever allowed to take it in. The possibility was tempting.

‘A week. I’ve been discharged, too. Bad ankle; can’t really go on long marches anymore. I’ve visited my parents in York but my brother lives here so I thought I’d come and see you too.’ Daniel’s eyes were smiling as much as his lips, practically sparkling with sentiment. Sherlock dug his nails on the sofa cushions but kept his face cool as he watched the scene.

‘How did you pull that off?’ he asked, unable to restrain himself. Both men turned to face him, John looking like he’d just remembered Sherlock was there. He was visibly flushed. _Aroused. Fantastic_ , Sherlock thought bitterly.  

‘Pull what off?’ Daniel’s voice had a note of warning to it.

‘Being in the army without anyone finding out.’ Sherlock stood leaned back on the couch, fingers steepled under his chin.

‘It was… I helped him out, Sherlock. I think everyone has the right to choose what they want to do in life, to serve their country if they want to. We were in the same unit so I signed his medical examinations and gave him the pills.’ John explained it slowly, his voice steady, as if he wanted to make clear that he didn’t regret any of it and would do it all over again.

‘I’m indebted to you,’ Daniel said, placing a hand on John’s arm. _Gratuitous physical contact. What do you want, soldier?_ ‘Things haven’t been the same since you left.’ The man looked sad as he said those words.

‘What happened?’ John didn’t shy away in the least; if anything, he shifted even closer to Daniel, as if the man was a magnet whose power he couldn’t resist.

‘Major Callaghan. He found out and he took advantage of it. His silence for… you know. It was a rough two years.’

‘That is disgusting,’ John retorted. ‘Blackmail.’

‘I have something to be glad of. He didn’t force-bond me; he was married to a female Beta and she couldn’t find out so he didn’t risk it. I’m still single.’

Sherlock could tell that Daniel didn’t want to be _single_ , or unbonded, for long. That was the reason behind his visit. He wanted to choke the man to death. Sherlock couldn’t care less about how bad he must have had it at the hands of an army officer who abused him; the only important thing was that he was here now, flirting with John, telling him that he was available if John wanted him. For the next heat. Forever.

‘You smell so─so good,’ John said, practically nuzzling the other man’s neck, ignoring Sherlock’s presence completely. ‘With the meds I could never… Oh, God.’ He shook his head and took a step back, apparently not trusting himself anymore.

‘Will you ask me out?’ Daniel smiled flirtatiously, licking the corner of his lips. He ran his fingers through his short auburn hair. Sherlock didn’t think he’d ever shown such full-on _Omega-ness_ , not even when he had his regular cycles. Throwing oneself at Alphas’ feet was demeaning, he thought. ‘In a week, I will… I will be glad to have some company, if you know what I mean.’

Sherlock coughed. He couldn’t put up with this, with this man coming here and basically using his biological endowments to get John to spend his next heat with him.

‘I’ll call you,’ John said, glancing nervously at Sherlock. ‘Dinner tomorrow, maybe?’ He grabbed his phone and typed in Daniel’s phone number.

‘Sure, Captain. Anything you like.’

‘John, we have a case.’ Sherlock stood up and walked towards them. They were likely to kiss or hug and he didn’t feel like witnessing that at all. He was simmering with rage and yet making a decent job of keeping his face expressionless.

‘Yes. Right,’ John said, and Daniel frowned but went to the door anyway. John held it open for him. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

When the Omega was finally gone, Sherlock checked his phone, hoping that Lestrade had sent him details of a case. Any case would do; anything to keep John’s mind from wandering to the sweet pie that had just insinuated himself. John was still beaming when he turned around, probably high with the scent of the man.

‘Ex-lover,’ Sherlock deduced aloud, and didn’t bother to make it sound like a question.

‘We… Wait. Sherlock, that’s none of your business.’

‘It is, actually,’ Sherlock looked at him sharply. ‘I need your help if you are alert and focused, and you’re a steamy bag of testosterone at the moment. I thought you were going to do him on the carpet.’

‘No. I would never─never do that.’ John frowned. ‘I have self-restraint, you know. I’ve had Omega patients before and I haven’t assaulted any of them. I’m not an animal. You just don’t understand how these things work, Sherlock. You Betas lead such a simple existence, you don’t have these irrational urges.’

Sherlock said nothing, for fear that he would end up spitting out the truth. He’d put up with more _irrational urges_ than he cared for and he didn’t enjoy it, being totally out of control. He’d also met his share of _animals_. He was a last year student at an all-boys boarding school when he went into heat for the first time. He’d known to watch out for the symptoms but it still took him by surprise. He’d broken into a sweat, legs turning to jelly, heart rate increasing and all his senses sharpening ─especially smell. Alpha students had chased after him around the school yard and all the way into the bathrooms. He remembered panicking then, and also the need, the urge to just let them ─any of them─ touch him. It was a complete stranger, the captain of the rugby team, who got to him and basically dragged him to his bedroom. Sherlock had vague recollections of the three days they spent mating; he wasn’t quite himself. The boy didn’t hurt him but he wasn’t exactly nice either, and the best Sherlock could say of him is that he was too inexperienced to attempt bonding so he didn’t.

Things got a bit better at university because he met Victor, who was a friend and more than willing to help him through his heats ─there was no romantic love between them though. He’d started taking suppressants when he left college and Victor went abroad, and it was working for him. Being in control, using his mind, solving crimes without ever thinking of fulfilling physical needs… this was what he liked. He also liked John Watson, though, a bit too much. Maybe enough to consider being an Omega again. For John, if the man would have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at Omegaverse but I've been doing my homework; I've added my own tweaks to the Alpha/Omega system, of course, and I hope you like it. I have everything mostly planned so I will try to update soon. Please R&R.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Tell me about the case,’ John said, interrupting his train of thought. Sherlock glanced at his phone screen again and was glad to see that the police inspector had really asked for his help. They could focus on this now, Sherlock decided.

The case turned out to be a murder involving at least three different Alphas and a mysterious chain of events, but Sherlock managed to throw some light on it in less than twelve hours. John spent his day off by his side, acting as the wonderful conductor of light he was. He didn’t look any different, and Sherlock wondered whether he had texted or called Daniel at all. Was he considering his proposal? There was no way of asking that without prying.

Sherlock kept arguing with himself, because a part of him thought that John had to love him for who he was, not because he was an Omega. Therefore, his love would mean nothing if it manifested itself only after the truth was out. Another part of him, a little devil inside, said that John _couldn’t_ be anyone else’s and Sherlock had to prevent that from happening at all costs. All was fair in love and war. After a long, sleepless night, Sherlock resolved not to take his daily morning pill. The consequences wouldn’t be immediate, as a one day grace period, in case one forgot to take it, was accounted for. It would take a few days for the effects of the medication to wear off; his scent would become stronger, he’d be able to smell John, and eventually ─in between ten days and two weeks─ he’d go into heat. The downside was that everyone else would know the truth unless he stayed in the flat. If he did that, he would grow restless and insufferable.

The thing that scared him the most was jeopardizing his career. Everything he’d been working for, his reputation as the only consulting detective, a cool, rational man who did what had to be done in order to solve crimes. Omegas were barely considered _men_ ; they could be nurses, teachers, gardeners, artists. They didn’t run companies, lead governments or save the country when there was a national threat. Intellect had nothing to do with it; he’d met brilliant Omegas. It was a social issue. It was the way Beta women had been treated until not so long before, for instance, as if they were inferior just because they could give birth. Sherlock didn’t think he would be able to cope with anyone reminding him what his _proper place_ was. His brother would be disappointed. Mycroft, an Alpha, had taken a certain pride in his Omega sibling who didn’t need mating and scorned submissiveness. What would he say when he found Sherlock willingly bonded to John Watson? _Would that even happen? John may not want me_.

He had an idea. It wasn’t his brightest one, but it would have to do. He would start flirting with John before his scent told the doctor everything he had to know. He had never tried to flirt outside heats ─during which times it really made no difference how good you were at it. That evening, as they were trying to wrap up the case, he sat a bit closer to John in the cab than was necessary. He touched John more, too, a hand brushing against his thigh, fingers touching as they reached for the same newspaper. Their gazes met and Sherlock prolonged eye contact for a little while, then looked away shyly ─a particularly difficult act, that one. John frowned several times, apparently clueless, but Sherlock caught him staring at the detective as if he’d never seen him before. He was reappraising Sherlock, and God knew what conclusions he was coming to.

‘Sherlock, is anything the matter with you?’ John eventually asked as they sat over bowls of rice and springrolls at a Chinese restaurant.

‘Why do you ask?’ Sherlock gave him a wide-eyed look.

‘Never mind,’ John licked his lips nervously. ‘My imagination must be playing tricks on me…’

‘Is that so?’ the detective said in his most velvety voice. ‘Mmh.’

John’s gaze flickered to his face. There was a spark of interest in his eyes, or maybe it was something else. Sherlock was about to ask about Daniel then, but he couldn’t do it without giving too much away. He bit his lower lip, unsure how to proceed. His heart was beating ridiculously fast, as if he were a teenager on a date with his first crush. Where did all this sentiment come from? Sherlock wondered whether there was a chemical explanation for it. Thoughts were racing through his head and he swallowed. A second later, John’s hand got hold of his under the table, entwining their fingers.

‘John,’ Sherlock muttered, startled. ‘I’m not your-your date.’ He was stuttering. He never stuttered. This was downright silly.

‘Yeah. Too bad,’ John replied, and tried to pull away, but Sherlock didn’t let him. He squeezed his fingers tighter with his own, thumb brushing over the back of John’s hand leisurely.

‘It’s all right.’

They finished their meal in silence and only stopped holding hands when the waiter came with the bill. _He likes me_ , Sherlock thought, giddy with the realization. The rest of the evening went on as usual, with neither of them making another move, but Sherlock was optimistic.

He didn’t take the pill the following morning, either. John went to the clinic and Sherlock lounged on the couch for a while, picturing what it would be like, being on the receiving end of John’s attentions. His brother showed up without warning, as usual, apparently determined to spoil a nice morning.

‘Sherlock,’ Mycroft said, frowning, when he’d barely crossed the threshold. ‘Please stand up.’

‘If you think I’m going to obey you…’ Sherlock rolled his eyes, annoyed, and sank back in his chair.

‘Do it.’

‘Fine.’ He got on his feet and folded his arms impatiently, glaring at his elder brother.

‘Why the change of heart?’

‘What are you talking about?’

Mycroft leaned forward and took a whiff, then recoiled in feigned disgust. That couldn’t be real; there was no way he could smell bad to an Alpha.

‘You smell like one.’

‘I _am_ one.’

‘But you’ve been trying not to. You wanted to live like a Beta, didn’t you?’

‘I might have. Before.’

‘That John Watson,’ Mycroft shook his head. ‘I knew that sharing a flat with an Alpha would have consequences. Have you told him?’

‘That’s none of your bu─,’ Sherlock started to say, then decided that Mycroft had the means to find out anyway. ‘No. Not yet. I just stopped taking the suppressants. He will notice.’

‘He won’t like it.’ Mycroft’s voice was deadly serious and Sherlock felt alarmed.

‘Of course he will. He’s an Alpha, why wouldn’t he like finding out that his flatmate is an Omega and willing to… Well.’

‘One, you’ve been lying to him. Two, he will feel manipulated. He won’t know whether he has feelings for you or it’s the pheromones speaking. He’ll be angry and afraid to ruin your friendship by taking advantage of it.’

‘As if you knew what you are talking about,’ Sherlock snapped.

‘There _is_ a reason I have a Beta lover, brother.’

And it was a miracle that Detective Lestrade had put up with Mycroft’s shit for over a year now, to be honest. Sherlock couldn’t find a logical explanation for that; it must be love, then.

‘John is better than most. He will accept me.’

‘And the rest of the world?’

‘I’ll worry about that later. I’m an adult, Mycroft. I can fend for myself.’

Mycroft shook his head and sighed dramatically,

‘There is no such thing as friendship between an Alpha and an Omega,’ he said gravely.

‘Victor,’ Sherlock retorted, and regretted it immediately after.

‘Don’t make me say it.’

‘What?’ Sherlock stood his ground, arms folded.

‘Don’t make me say that you keep talking about Victor as if he ever _cared_.’

Sherlock winced but refused to show it. That stung. It was true, though. There had been a mutually beneficial arrangement, but they hadn’t really been close friends. Or a couple. They’d waltzed in that grey, rather depressing wasteland that stretches between two people who think of each other for one reason only: satisfying a craving, a need. Sherlock didn’t want to go there with John. It was probably the worst case scenario.

‘I’m tired of your ominous prattle, brother.’ He closed his eyes, effectively dismissing Mycroft.

‘Call me if it gets too bad.’ Mycroft’s tone had softened but Sherlock had had enough. He just didn’t feel like listening.

‘Not even if I get chased around London by all the Alpha dickheads working at Scotland Yard. Goodbye, Mycroft.’

Sherlock felt cold when his brother grabbed his umbrella and left without another word. His skin had started to prickle, as if he were about to shed it like a snake. Moulting, that was called. He found the word appropriate. He was getting rid of his outer layer, his armour, and that involved exposing the softer parts of himself.

Mycroft had smelled the change because he had a rather above-average sensory perception. Plus, he was his brother and they’d always been familiar with each other’s scents. They could easily recognize each other within a large crowd. That didn’t mean that anyone else would be able to tell the difference; it was only his second day off meds. Sherlock decided to go out while he still could and check his usual bolt-holes. They could come in handy, especially the ones that were hard to access. _I may not need one. I may be safe here; safe and with John_. He looked around the living-room. There were several nice spots to nest; the best was probably the carpet next to the hearth. Cushions and blankets could be scattered around. There was also his bedroom, but that was boring. Unimaginative Omegas did that. He snapped out of his reverie when his phone buzzed. It wasn’t about a case, but apparently he had to go and fix some broken or missing links within his network of homeless informants. That would help pass the time nicely. And he’d be able to go to the boltholes too, since some of them were located in the less nice parts of the city.

*

The upper floor of the rusty, abandoned warehouse that loomed before him was only accessible via fire stairs, and even those had a  gate on the top which could be locked and bolted. He’d found the key during his first incursion there. Sherlock had been storing some emergency supplies in one of the rooms in case he needed to disappear for a few days. It was safe, if not every comfortable. It seemed to be the most Alpha-proof of his hideouts, so he made sure everything was in order.

It was past six when he finished his tour, and he had got no weird glances from other people yet. He hadn’t let anyone get too close, just in case. He was crossing the Millenium Bridge when his phone buzzed. It was a message from John, saying that he’d come home late in the evening, no explanations given. Any other day, before the Omega soldier had shown up at 221B, Sherlock would have shrugged it off and told himself that the man was going to have a pint with one co-worker or another. That evening, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and held on to the rail as if someone had punched him right in the stomach, shattering the invisible box were he’d stored feelings of jealousy and dread. Suddenly he was more green-eyed than he’d ever been and he knew ─a part of him knew─ that his hormones were running rampant and distorting his perception, but he could picture it in his head so clearly. John was going to meet Daniel. They would have a lovely conversation about the old days at the army and reminisce about some good moments together. Inevitably, Daniel would flirt, trying to get closer, offering his neck for John to smell, to look at with hungry eyes. He’d said his heat wouldn’t start for a few days yet but that wouldn’t prevent some touching, some intimacy that would pave the way for that. Sherlock didn’t want to think about it but he couldn’t switch it off. The thought had taken root and he felt sick with fear.

He was putting everything on the line for a man that maybe, just maybe, had already made up his mind to bond with another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts of this have been physically painful to write. I want to say thanks to the people who are reading this and leaving their kind comments; you really make my day and I appreciate your feedback. I will try to update soon although I'm going to be travelling a bit and chapter 3 may take a little while. I promise I'll make up for it, though.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time he got home, Sherlock didn’t want to think at all. He hadn’t foreseen that things would speed up like this; it was only the second day off the pills and there was no doubt that the biological processes he’d tried not to go through for years were underway. He was overwhelmed with new sensory information, especially scents, and merely trying to classify it, discard it or ignore it altogether used up his mental faculties to a great degree. He couldn’t dwell on the idea of John with someone else. _But he is. I know he is. I am terrible at flirting; he must still think I’m not interested. Or maybe he just prefers his old friend, uncomplicated as he seems. Unlike me._

As he stepped into the flat, he was welcomed by John’s scent, which seemed to have clung to everything from the door to the curtains. It was the first time he could smell it in all its intensity. Sherlock hugged himself, shivering, as he spun around and sniffed the air. And how nice a scent it was, musky and earthy and just a bit sweet. His skin kept tickling uncomfortably and he took off his clothes, swiftly changing into his pyjamas and nightgown. It was pure instinct that drove him to John’s chair, where the scent seemed to be strongest. He sat down with a sigh, curled up and closed his eyes, basking in it. If that ship had sailed, he had only himself to blame. There had been a choice. He could have told John right from the start, or at least shortly after it became obvious they got along and wanted to live together. If he had done it, maybe it would be the doctor he’d be hugging now instead of his own knees.

What would happen when he lost control, then? There was no reversing the process. Sherlock felt vulnerable and he hated it. It would only get worse. He would either have to go to the hospital, where he’d be put in the Omega ward and sedated to make his symptoms more bearable, or else make himself available to the first brute that found him. It had happened before. John was the simplest solution to his problems, if he would only cooperate.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping when he woke up. It was very dark outside and the sitting-room lamp was on. John was standing near him and he looked mesmerized and more than a little guilty and confused too. Sherlock kept his eyes focused on the floor, not trusting himself to speak. He’d always been attracted to John, but never like that. His flatmate was feeling the pull of it, too. He was licking his lips, shoulders tense, fumbling with his pockets the way a magician would fumble with his top hat in the hopes of extracting a rabbit. Sherlock was about to stand up and tell him everything when another scent hit him harder than a blow to the face. It had clung to John’s clothes, much like a woman’s expensive perfume would cling to an unfaithful husband’s. Sherlock had nothing to compare it to, as he hadn’t been able to smell Daniel in their first encounter, but he was sure it was a male Omega scent. Sherlock blinked back a tear —why was that even happening? He wasn’t one to cry— and got dangerously close to making a fool of himself, overemotional as he felt. He stood up and gave John a wide berth, not caring if he was too conspicuous about it.

‘Goodnight, John,’ he mumbled before going into his bedroom and closing the door after himself. He heard John call his name but he couldn’t face him. Not at that moment.

He tried to rationalize what was happening to him. PHS. Pre-heat syndrome, also known as a tenfold, fucked up version of beta females’ PMS. To Omegas who went through their cycles regularly it meant a headache, general moodiness and fits of crying at most. Sherlock felt like his body was going to implode, burning him up from the inside out. He was weeping by the time he got into his bed, right after taking off all his clothes, rolling them up in a ball which he flung across the room angrily. _Please knock_ , he thought as he drifted off to sleep. _Knock and I’ll let you in_.

*

He woke up early in the morning, feeling slightly better but more aware of his body than he’d been in ages. He generally had odd sleeping habits, didn’t eat that much and deliberately ignored his physical urges in order to focus on work. His body was retaliating now; he was hungry and had a morning erection. Memories of Victor’s large, skilled hands sliding up his crotch, teasing him, ran through his head. His former lover had been fond of dirty talk and he would whisper things in Sherlock’s ear until Sherlock couldn’t take it any longer and rocked his hips back, rubbing his moistened arse against the man’s erection.

Sherlock caught himself as he was reaching for his cock and gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t get off on memories that he never even thought of if he could help it. Victor didn’t deserve that much. He got up and headed right into the shower, and let a stream of very cold water wash it all away, clearing his mind in the process. He needed to have his wits about him. He grabbed a small bottle from the bottom of his drawer and sprayed its contents all over his body. It was a scent concealer, something akin to a deodorant, and it would help him walk undetected unless an Alpha got too close –and he didn’t intend to let that happen. He dressed himself in his usual smart clothes and found that his scarf wasn’t in the usual spot. He’d hung it on a hook near the door and it was on John’s chair now. _He’s been smelling it. He knows_. Waiting for John to wake up and have a proper conversation with him was probably the reasonable thing to do, but Sherlock had other plans.

There was a sticky note on the kitchen counter with the address of a restaurant jotted down in John’s slanted cursive. Sherlock assumed that the ex-soldier’s brother lived within walking distance of that restaurant, since it wouldn’t be safe for the man to walk across the streets of London at night, an all-you-can-eat buffet for any Alpha of nocturnal habits. It wasn’t that difficult to track Daniel down, used to solving puzzles as he was, and he finally spotted the man sitting outside a small café in a not very crowded area. He was alone and he looked relaxed and content, so Sherlock was more than happy to ruin his morning by sitting down on the opposite chair uninvited.

‘Good morning,’ he said curtly. The man had probably taken a shower because he didn’t smell of John. Had he smelled of John, Sherlock would have probably punched him on the face straight away, so it was a good thing he didn’t.

Daniel looked genuinely startled as he looked at him, and almost crushed his paper cup before putting it down. He had meant to smirk, or probably just frown, but surprise seemed to have got the better of him and his lips twisted in a grimace.

‘Mr. Holmes,’ he said. For a split second, Sherlock saw his own fear mirrored in the man’s eyes. He had thought Sherlock was a beta. The truth made him a very real threat.

‘Surprise,’ Sherlock said in an emotionless voice. ‘Or rather, why would you be so surprised? You’ve played the game yourself.’

‘What game?’ Daniel asked, but it was obvious he knew. His body had tensed up, as if he were ready to spring into action. He was used to dealing with threatening people, Sherlock deduced.

‘Disguise. Self-control. Don’t misunderstand me, Daniel. I’m not here to sympathize with you or become Omega fellows. You are to leave my things alone.’

Daniel let out a short, humourless laugh. ‘Your _things_? I got really close to Captain Watson last night and I didn’t see any tags attached to his neck.’

The man was taunting him, gloating in his small victory. Sherlock wouldn’t fall for it.   

‘This is a big city, full of eligible bachelor Alphas to pick from. The only one you can’t have is John Watson.’

‘I lived in an Alpha world for almost fifteen years. He was the only one who saw me for who I was. Of course, I told him the truth from the beginning.’ Another cutting remark. Sherlock dug his nails on the fabric of his trousers. ‘He made a point of protecting me and my secret. A couple of times, though, I saw it in his eyes. How badly he wanted me to take a break from the drugs and go into heat. He never said it, never tried to do anything untoward. I’ve fantasised about John Watson for ages. And you,’ he said, his voice a low groan at this point, ‘you live with him. You haven’t even let him know. You don’t deserve him.’

‘Are you done?’ Sherlock asked impatiently. ‘I don’t care about your infatuation. You are getting out of my territory.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ Daniel raised his eyebrows as if he couldn’t believe his ears. ‘What territory? You are a fucking Omega like me. We don’t have such a thing. We walk around and Alphas fight each other, claim us, take what they want. Has no one ever explained this to you? The only thing we can do is step forward and flirt with the ones we like.’

Sherlock had heard that song countless times. Never from his family, however. They had always supported him and made him believe he could be anything he wanted. Apparently, having one Alpha and one Omega child was lucky, since the odds were rather low when both parents were Betas. In any case, Betas didn’t really understand. To hear it from an Omega’s mouth was worse, actually. The soldier had had it rough but still believed that this was the _natural_ order of things.

‘That may be the only thing _you_ can do. I won’t repeat myself,’ Sherlock said.

Daniel tossed his empty cup right into the nearest bin and rolled his shoulders back. His dark chestnut hair looked brighter in the sun; he was a handsome man, admittedly. Sherlock wasn’t sure he could blame John, and the thought was upsetting.  

‘I feel sorry for you. You think you are something else, the grand Sherlock Holmes who owns the streets of London and the Yard both.’ He spoke in a low, steady voice, glancing around to make sure they weren’t overheard. He’d obviously done his research. ‘But you are off your meds now and in a few days all you’ll want will be a nest and an Alpha cock shoved up your arse. Enjoy your dignity while you can. I will be with Captain Watson. He’s _courting_ me, you know.’

Sherlock didn’t think Daniel was bluffing about that last thing, and he felt a dagger twist in his stomach. His face betrayed nothing but he knew his eyes probably looked murderous as he glared at the other man. He stood up then, unwilling to go on bullying him. It was no use and he’d made himself clear. They might as well have a fair fight.

‘Enjoy your _courting_ while you can. Goodbye, Daniel.’

As he walked through the most deserted streets and alleyways he could pick, Sherlock felt more than a bit hopeless. He’d been too naïve in thinking he could drive away someone who was that invested in John. And John was even bothering to court him, which was an old-fashioned and not widely respected tradition those days, involving going on dates with the Omega that an Alpha wanted to mate with in order to make things less awkward when the former went into heat.  

The only thing left to do was to face the doctor and let him choose. It was embarrassing enough, and he’d been hoping it didn’t have to come to that. Sherlock’s symptoms had returned and he felt feverish. His phone buzzed in his coat pocket. John was actually calling him. Not texting. Calling. This couldn’t be good, but he wanted to hear his voice so badly.

‘Sherlock. We need to talk?’ the man said as soon as he tapped the button.

‘Talk, then,’ he replied, his voice but a whisper.

Sherlock could picture John pacing around the room, as if searching for the words he needed. He’d got to know the man so well.  

‘It isn’t true, is it? It was someone else’s scent. You are not an— you are not one. It’s impossible. And you wouldn’t be sharing a flat with me if you were.’

‘Sorry to disappoint, John,’ Sherlock said softly. ‘I didn’t think it would be an issue.’

‘Holy fucking shit, Sherlock. You didn’t _think_ at all,’ John’s voice sounded angry. The stream of curses wasn’t a good sign, either.

Sherlock glanced around just to make sure he wasn’t followed, then leaned his back against a graffiti-covered wall.

‘I could explain, if you want me to.’

The silence stretched for fifteen seconds at least. ‘Not now. No. Don’t. You are either very irresponsible, very crazy or a compulsive liar. I don’t know who you are, and we’ve shared a flat for over a year. How does that even make sense?’

‘You _do_ know me,’ Sherlock retorted. He was upset too, and very sick of the whirlpool of emotions that was taking over his perfectly organized, sane life.

‘You know what? We should be _speaking_ about this. But we can’t. Because I can’t come close to you now.’ John sounded more hurt than angry then.

Sherlock wanted to say that he could, that he wanted him to come closer, comfort him, touch him. The words caught in his throat and he held on to the last shred of pride he had left, although jealousy found a way to seep through his words.

‘I’ll be out of your way,’ he said. ‘Just forget about me. The soldier is quite besotted with you. Bye, John.’

The moment he hung up, he realized he should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. A mean-looking young man, all wrapped up in strong Alpha smell, was lurking around one end of the alley, eyes trained on Sherlock. _Broken-hearted and in even more permanent danger. Welcome to my new life._

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind reviews; this story has been playing out in my head for so long and I'm happy I got this chapter written. Your feedback is very important, so please let me know how you liked it! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of rape/abuse. Hospitals. Weapons.

Chapter 4

Sherlock held his breath, considering his options. He was fast enough and could run to the other end of the alley easily, although running wasn’t really his way of facing this kind of situation. There was also a fire ladder on one of the walls, and a rubbish bin with some floor boards and construction waste from which he could pick up something to use as a weapon. The Alpha was thirty yards away and he was wearing a hoodie; his face was hidden in the shadows. He decided to flee without running and strode away as fast as he could. The man followed, and Sherlock caught his scent. _Young, unbonded, interested_. Not a good combination, but his inexperience might play to Sherlock’s advantage. _I can get rid of him_. Sherlock clenched his fists all of a sudden and stopped in his tracks, turning around to face his stalker angrily.

‘Sherlock Holmes!’ the stranger exclaimed, and threw back his hood.

Sherlock was so surprised that he didn’t recognize the man immediately, and it took him a few seconds to come up with a name to attach to the familiar face.

‘Jared Sheridan,’ he said after a moment. The man was a former client; he was young, twenty-three if Sherlock recalled correctly, and had big blue eyes that looked even wider as he stared at the detective in disbelief.

‘Mr Holmes. I am-I am sorry. I shouldn’t have approached you like that. I just didn’t know… you, of all people!’

Sherlock appreciated his candour, at least, although he half-rolled his eyes and ignored the implicit question concerning his secondary gender. He recalled the details of the case perfectly. Jared’s little sister, Hannah, had been kidnapped and his parents were too afraid to tell the police. The young man had come looking for Sherlock and the detective had helped locate her before the dangerous Russian gang who had taken her had a chance to hurt her. She was only scared out of her wits when they rescued her.

‘How is your sister?’ Sherlock asked. He knew that reminding Jared of it was the safest course of action; it should make him think twice about trying to lay hands on him, if any such thing had been on his mind. Jared took a small step back and his body language shifted to ‘perfectly amiable’ and at least partially relaxed, so Sherlock let himself breathe again.

‘She is fine, oh, very well. She turned fifteen last Sunday. She’s over it, I think. Thank you again.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Now, do you approach all Omegas in that way, Jared?’

The boy looked genuinely embarrassed and averted his gaze. He was so very young; he had been missing so much when he was on suppressants, Sherlock realized. Jared was a hormonal mess, almost out of control. He could now smell it. Being an inexperienced Alpha couldn’t be easy, he thought, although it was certainly not as hard as being a young Omega.

‘I-I try not to. I was just curious. You smell very good, with all due respect,’ the boy mumbled. ‘I’m really sorry.’ He finally looked at Sherlock, and he seemed to be pulling himself together a little. ‘I joined one of those Think Before programmes and it is helping.’

Sherlock couldn’t refrain from smiling when he heard that. He knew exactly what that type of training course ─more like group therapy, in fact─ was about. As its name implied, young Alphas were taught some self-control so that they would stop and think before even talking to an Omega. They had to learn to put themselves in the Omega’s shoes and respect their right to choose. Mycroft found the idea hilarious and argued that self-control couldn’t be taught; it was something Alphas had to master themselves.

‘You’d better not wear the hood, and do try to be more aware of your body language,’ Sherlock said, not unkindly. ‘Or they will all run away.’

He was a good-looking boy, Sherlock thought, and he smelled even better. He forced himself to ignore his scent. He was messing up badly enough without bringing another Alpha into the equation.

‘Thank you for the advice,’ Jared smiled for the first time, and ran his fingers through his mop of copper-blond hair. Sherlock could almost hear the next thought form in Jared’s head. ‘You are way out of my league but I’d still like to ask you…’

‘It is all right,’ Sherlock interrupted him, shaking his head. ‘I am attached. Or I hope to be, at least. Good luck, Jared. Tell Hannah I said hello.’

What would he do if John really didn’t want him? He asked himself that question for the thousandth time. He looked at the young man again, then discarded the thought immediately. No one else would do, no matter how desperate he got.

He waved his hand and walked away, leaving Jared right there, fighting his every instinct to pin Sherlock to the wall. _Does John fight it too when he gets too close to Daniel? Why would he? He’ll never find a more welcoming Omega. I don’t think even I would be that approachable. I’m trouble, however you look at me._

He was almost relieved when he saw a text message from Lestrade. There had been developments in the murder case. He would welcome the distraction, and headed towards the Yard building even as he went over the facts once again in his head. Three Alphas ─to whom he had assigned letters in his mind palace─and one Omega, all male, were involved in what was obviously a crime of passion. Alpha One was bonded to the Omega, and had had a falling out with his best friend, Alpha Two, for unknown reasons. Alpha Two had been going out with another Alpha ─Three─ for a couple of years and they had a complicated relationship, because partnered Alphas always did. The body of Alpha Two had been found near the Thames four days before, and the other three men were suspects. The police had questioned One and Three and they had been looking for the Omega without success. They had suspected the latter the most, but Sherlock had found no conclusive evidence. Lestrade had just told him that the Omega had been found in a sorry state. He had been beaten and raped, and had been taken to the hospital. The news made Sherlock’s stomach lurch for a moment. Alphas didn’t generally abuse their bonded Omegas ─it was considered a very serious crime─ but it wasn’t unheard of. Number One could be responsible for both crimes, but what about Three then? Was he guiltless in the whole affair? Sherlock found it hard to believe.

From Jared’s reaction a moment before, Sherlock could tell that the scent concealer wasn’t really working. Maybe it was supposed to cover regular Omega scent, but Sherlock was in the pre-heat phase now, so his scent was probably stronger and too conspicuous. He wouldn’t be able to walk into the Yard undetected, and it was altogether a bad idea. The place was packed with Alphas. He replied to Lestrade’s text, asking him to meet him elsewhere and either text him or show him the new evidence.

Mycroft must have told Lestrade, Sherlock realized, since the man made no comment about Sherlock’s condition when he showed up with his car and motioned Sherlock in. The detective was thankful for that. He had been over the subject enough for one day and he didn’t wish to discuss it again, not with anyone, and especially not with a Beta, friend or stranger. He couldn’t afford to think of John now, he decided; he had to focus on the case.

‘Has the victim said anything?’ he asked calmly, processing the new information.

‘Only his partner’s name. He keeps naming his Alpha, Samuel, but we don’t know if he’s accusing him or just calling for him. He’s not well, Sherlock. He’s been beaten bloody and… well. He’s a mess. We are hoping he will be fit to talk tomorrow.’

‘Have you tracked down the two Alphas?’     

Lestrade shook his head. ‘They are nowhere to be found. This isn’t looking good.’

‘Let me question the Omega. He knows the truth.’

‘We have tried. He’s terrified and ranting most of the time.’

‘Who has tried?’ This was important, very important.

‘I did. And Mark Leeds too. You know him, he works in social care. He deals with abuse situations.’

‘He’s an Alpha,’ Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘For God’s sake, do you policemen ever _think_?’

‘We don’t have, er─’ Greg babbled. Of course they didn’t have any Omega officers. There wasn’t a single one in the whole Scotland Yard building, in fact.

‘Let’s go to the hospital. He’ll speak with me.’

‘Sherlock, no offence, but you aren’t the best suited person to talk to someone in distress. He’s been through a lot; he doesn’t need any tactless remarks.’

‘I don’t feel like myself today,’ Sherlock pursed his lips. ‘I will be very _nice_.’

‘By the way, John is in the Yard. He’s having a look at the reports on my office. Shall we call him?’

‘No,’ Sherlock said, way too quickly. ‘Why is he there?’

‘You didn’t reply to my text right away so I assumed you’d be together and I texted him. He turned up to see if he could be of any help.’

Sherlock didn’t comment on that. It hurt to even think of John. _Duty first. Everything else must wait._ He fell silent during the rest of the trip to the hospital and Greg chose not to press the issue.

The Omega was named Andrew and Sherlock couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, although he tried to remain as clinically detached as possible in order not to miss anything. He was in his early thirties and not a bad-looking man, but there were bandages around his forehead and neck now, concealing part of his face; his arm was broken and there were nasty-looking scratches and bruises all over his body, which the nurses were treating with ointments. His life was not in danger, but he looked pretty broken, eyes glazed as he stared at the wall.

‘Can I have five minutes alone with him?’ Sherlock asked the nurse, and she nodded and left. Lestrade waited outside, talking to the policeman who had been posted at the door.

Sherlock sat on a chair next to his bed. He remembered his own words. _Will caring about them help save them?_

‘Andrew, can you hear me? I am not a policeman,’ he said. The lying man barely moved, but his head tilted slightly towards Sherlock. ‘I am a detective, and an Omega too.’ Saying it out loud made it so real; Sherlock couldn’t help but shiver.

The victim looked at him, his face devoid of all expression, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

‘Who did this to you? What can you remember?’ Sherlock asked. No answer. Andrew looked like he was about to weep, a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. It couldn’t be, could it? Sherlock wondered. ‘Was it Sam?’ The man’s bonded Alpha was called Samuel.

‘He’d never… no.’ The response was almost immediate, although Andrew’s voice was hoarse, his throat dry. Sherlock reached for a glass of water on the bedside table and helped him take a sip. ‘God, it hurts.’

‘Andrew, I’m going to find whoever did this to you. Your lover had a friend called Robert, didn’t he? Do you know he is dead?’ That was Alpha Two, the first victim.

‘I don’t know… anything about that,’ he muttered. Sherlock could see it was a lie, but there was stubbornness about the way the man set his jaw that indicated he would get no answer to this particular question. _Did you kill him? Did your Alpha? What happened there?_ Those were the obvious questions, but it was pointless to ask them.

‘Where is Sam? Do you know that?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. He would never betray his Alpha, it seemed.

‘This is very important. One man is dead, and you are injured. You should tell me before anyone else gets hurt.’

‘I can do nothing. I don’t know. You don’t understand. You are like me but you don’t understand.’ He was upset now, and Sherlock sat back on his chair.

Maybe Andrew was right, and he didn’t understand. He’d been shunning his condition after all, trying not to pay it any heed. The case was doing very little to comfort Sherlock in his newly embraced identity.

‘Do you know an Alpha called Nicholas?’ Sherlock asked, refusing to reply to Andrew’s observation. Nicholas was Alpha Three, the lover of the deceased.  

The Omega remained silent and shook his head, but his eyes told Sherlock otherwise. It was a wince that lasted less than a second but it spoke volumes. Three was involved.

Andrew didn’t say another word. He stared at the ceiling and chose to ignore Sherlock for a good five minutes before the detective gave up and exited the room.

‘Have your men had samples taken?’ he asked Lestrade.

‘Yes. We will have the DNA of the bastard who raped him within several days.’

‘But nothing to compare it to. Neither Alpha One or Three are on file, are they? The missing suspects, I mean.’

‘We’ll catch them. Any ideas so far?’

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, almost feeling the two distinct possibilities take shape in his head. ‘Just theories; little evidence. He wasn’t very helpful.’ _He wants to protect his partner no matter what_. _That must be the reason beneath it all_. Somehow it made sense. John and he always watched out for each other, even though they weren’t together. He couldn’t imagine John betraying him, or himself turning on John. _But I did, didn’t I? I didn’t tell him the truth. Isn’t that betrayal?_

‘Do you think the Omega was secretly seeing one of them, or both?’ Greg wanted to know.

‘It is possible, but I don’t think so. He is very much in love with his man.’

Sherlock didn’t like the look Greg gave him then. The question was written all over the inspector’s face. He wanted to ask Sherlock about John and himself. Sherlock didn’t want to give him the chance so he turned around after telling him that he was going to follow a lead and would contact him later.

As he tried to make Andrew speak he had eyed his clothes, hands and face, as well as his few personal items near the bed; this had given him a few clues about the place where he’d been assaulted, which Sherlock believed to be different from the spot where they found him hours later. It all led him to a mostly abandoned park where a very particular type of tree ─found nowhere else in London─ grew. By the time he got there, Sherlock wasn’t feeling great. He hadn’t eaten at all, the dull tingling throughout his body had given way to actual, almost painful discomfort and his head ached. He forced himself to look around and examine the terrain, and finally he found a spot with obvious signs of struggle and two pairs of footprints in the mud. He recognized the Omega’s scent. He made a mental note of the new evidence and followed a trail out of the bushes and into an abandoned house nearby. Before he went in, he texted Lestrade with the photo and location.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was standing with his face to the wall, the barrel of a gun pressed to his back. The weapon was held by a man who was at least six feet five tall, broad-shouldered and wrapped in an overwhelming Alpha scent that sent Sherlock’s head spinning. He recognized him from the photos he’d seen. ‘Nicholas,’ he said. _Alpha Three_. _Vendetta_. The truth dawned on him then and a very clear sequence of events formed in his mind, even as he tried to work out how to get free.

‘Who are you and how do you know my name?’ _Late twenties, professional athlete, fond of weapons ─this is no common gun─ and hot sauce in his food. Irascible, contemptuous, proud._ The deductions ran through Sherlock’s mind at the usual speed despite the headache. 

‘You forgot something when you beat and raped Andrew Glenn. You smell pretty strong,’ Sherlock snorted. He heard the man laugh bitterly.

‘Did they send an Omega to track me down? Seriously? The Yard is not what it used to be.’

‘I’m here of my own accord,’ Sherlock replied, not rising to the bait.

‘I haven’t had my fill today,’ the Alpha said, and Sherlock felt sick as the man’s hand rested on his side, petting him as if he were a cat, the cold metal against his nape now. ‘The little slut wasn’t that great. Why all the fuss, I wondered. Why would Robert have fallen in love with him? He had me.’

‘You killed him,’ Sherlock said, taunting him. ‘Your lover.’

‘Who do you take me for? It was the Omega’s man. Samuel and Robert were close friends. We’d met. But Robert lusted after the slut, oh he did. I knew him too well. I guess Samuel didn’t like that. He killed his best friend, fuck, how sick is that?’

‘You’ve taken revenge.’ It was all crystal clear now, Sherlock’s suspicions confirmed. He wanted to hate the man who threatened to kill him, but all the testosterone floating around was rendering him numb.

‘You won’t be able to tell anybody, will you? Yes, I have,’ Nicholas said gleefully. ‘Oh, Samuel will _love_ it, how I fucked his lover of ten years, who is so loyal, so devoted to him alone. They took Robert from me, and I have no reason to be a well-behaved Alpha anymore, do I?’ The man took a whiff, nose pressed against Sherlock’s neck. Under any other circumstances, Sherlock would be fighting back, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. He thought of John. ‘God. You smell so _ripe_ ,’ the Alpha added.  

As he felt the first drops of warm fluid trickle down the back of his thighs, Sherlock knew he did. His heat had just started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait, but my trip is over now and I have more time to write, phew. I will try to update soon! I know you may think my chapter endings are downright mean... don't worry, it will get better (will it? ;-D).


	5. Chapter 5

The man’s lips were too close to his neck when he heard a familiar voice behind them.

‘Drop the weapon!’ Lestrade shouted, and Sherlock didn’t know if he felt relieved or upset. He’d wanted _any_ Alpha to touch him. He sensed Nicholas step back and shift his weight, probably to turn around and face the inspector, but the gun barrel remained firmly in place and Sherlock dared not move. Sherlock just listened to the other steps coming their way. His nose caught a familiar scent even before he heard the second voice.

‘Hurt him and I’ll blow your brains,’ John said. He sounded angry. Furious. But Sherlock knew he was in control, nerves steeled, ready to shoot and hit the target. He wouldn’t miss if he did, and killing a man right in front of the police would surely get him into trouble. Using whatever capacity to reason he had left, Sherlock decided he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Suddenly the cold metal was gone, and Sherlock heard the Alpha grumble. He turned around quickly and saw him drop the gun as both Greg’s and John’s weapons were pointed right at his head.

‘Is he yours?’ Nicholas asked, tilting his head towards Sherlock. And then John did something strange that made Sherlock’s heart hammer in his chest even more loudly. He nodded, eyes narrowed, the least friendly expression Sherlock had ever seen on his face. Sherlock thought that his hormones were playing tricks on his imagination. Soon two of Lestrade’s men were handcuffing the Alpha.

‘Pull yourselves together, will you?’ he heard the inspector tell his men. ‘Focus, for Christ’s sake!’ The two officers were leering at Sherlock even as they went about their duty.

Sherlock felt very weak all of a sudden, as if his knees were refusing to sustain his weight any longer, and he tried to hold on to the nearest wall but he found John instead.

‘Hey,’ his friend helped him regain his balance but Sherlock’s head didn’t stop spinning. That scent. That wonderful, sweet scent. Why couldn’t they be together? He had forgotten all the reasons, but he was sure there were some. ‘Are you hurt?’

Sherlock averted his eyes and shook his head quickly. When he finally looked at John, the tension between them was thick, almost liquid, and John’s nostrils were flared, his eyes a bit darker than usual. He remained motionless, as if he didn’t trust himself to touch Sherlock again.

‘They have to catch… the other one,’ Sherlock told him. ‘Samuel killed the second Alpha. He is the Omega’s partner.’

‘I’ll tell Greg,’ John said, his voice too hoarse. ‘Wait here.’

John approached the inspector and Sherlock could see them talking. John pointed at Sherlock and Lestrade nodded.

‘We are going home,’ John said as soon as he came back. ‘I’ll get a cab, okay?’

Sherlock almost clung to him then; the need to touch him was too great. His whole body was reacting to John and he wanted nothing more than to smell him, lick his neck even, _taste_ him properly. It took all of his self-control not to. Surely there was something he was forgetting.

He woke up to John tapping him gently on the shoulder; he’d passed out as they rode home. He was tired beyond belief, hungry and very thirsty. John all but carried him upstairs and helped him sit on the couch, then brought a large glass of water to his lips.

‘You need it,’ he said gently. ‘You are not there yet, but preheat can be really bad if your body doesn’t have enough nourishment to make all the extra energy you’ll need.’

He wasn’t in heat yet, then? Sherlock felt relieved and drank deeply. He supposed John was right, or he’d be crawling on top of the Alpha by now. He stuffed himself with sliced red apples and biscuits he picked from the bowl John offered to him, and he was nibbling on a dark chocolate bar when he suddenly remembered. ‘John. You were angry. I am sorry.’

‘I understand.’ John smiled reassuringly. ‘I’ve seen how dangerous being an Omega consulting detective can be.’

‘You had the right to know.’ Sherlock had sobered up a bit, which didn’t make sense. ‘Wait. Why can I even think now?’

‘I’ve put something in the water,’ John gave him a sheepish smile. ‘It’s not a suppressant. It takes the edge off your symptoms so you can still be in control; you’ll go through your heat but you won’t feel so miserable. I’ve prescribed it to patients before.’

‘I didn’t know this existed,’ Sherlock admitted. ‘Will I still want…?’

‘Yes,’ John interrupted him, clenching and unclenching his hands over his knees. ‘You definitely will. After such a long time, your body needs it.’

‘You are not with Daniel.’ It wasn’t a question. Sherlock had had a very long day and it all was coming to him now. Daniel, Jared, the abused Omega and the jealous Alphas.

John actually rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘No, I’m not with Daniel. I didn’t plan to be. We _went for a_ _drink_ together, Sherlock. Talked about the old times. I know what you are going to say─’ he waved his hand as Sherlock opened his mouth to ask. ‘He had a crush on me back then, but I was more concerned with keeping him safe and sound in a regiment of horny Alphas, to be honest. And I did. I told him I’m flattered that he thinks of me that way but that he deserves someone who returns his feelings. I wouldn’t take advantage. I’m a better man than you two give me credit for, Sherlock.’

‘I know that.’ Sherlock took some time to process it. The Omega had sounded so confident. ‘But would you have shared a flat with me if I’d told you?’

‘You were on suppressants. I think I would have.’ John poured them some tea and handed a steamy mug to Sherlock. ‘Not drugged.’

‘I’m usually the one saying that,’ Sherlock smiled, relaxing a bit.

‘I won’t respect you any less for being an Omega. Neither will Greg, or any of your friends. You’ve just solved a case while battling your own body.’

‘I’m done fighting it for now.’ Sherlock gave John a meaningful, heavy-lidded look as he sipped his tea. John responded by sitting a bit closer and taking a deep whiff at Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock closed his eyes. It was an intimate gesture that made the detective feel more hopeful than he’d been since Daniel knocked on their door.

‘I made you a nest after we talked on the phone. I was confused, but I worried that you might be going around the city on your own, and you’d come back too tired to even bother getting comfortable. Have a look.’    

Sherlock got to his feet slowly and padded towards his bedroom. John had piled up every cushion and duvet cover he’d been able to find.

‘I’ve done it by the book, really,’ John explained. ‘Clean bedding with no chemical scents, plenty of water, more fruit and snacks. You might crave sweet things. If there is anything else you need, you can tell me.’ He pointed at everything and Sherlock was impressed. ‘I can leave when─’

‘John. I appreciate it,’ he cut him off, his voice huskier than he’d intended. ‘But it is you I need.’

John frowned and mouthed like a fish out of water, failing to make any sound. ‘It’s the hormones speaking. Sherlock, you’ve never… I thought you…’ he finally said.

Sherlock didn’t think twice before he closed the distance between them and kissed John on the lips, arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘Shut up,’ he muttered when he gasped for air after a few seconds. ‘You’re wrong.’

Within a minute, John had him pinned to the wall and was lapping at his neck, fingers threading through his sensitive scalp, caressing his curls. Sherlock purred in delight and let him do as he wished. He trusted John. John, who apparently meant to court _him_ , not Daniel, if the food and the nest were anything to go by. ‘You’ll need a few days off work,’ he muttered.

‘I know. It’s okay.’ John’s pupils were blown and he was breathing raggedly. He rutted against Sherlock’s thigh even as his right hand found its way down his waistband and gripped his arse firmly. Sherlock let out a moan when a single finger probed at his cleft, instinctively checking if he’d started self-lubricating.

‘John Watson, are you going to make me yours?’ he chuckled. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted an Alpha this bad. John was perfect for him; he was exactly what he wanted. A strong, reliable man he could trust completely; a man he loved ─something Victor had never been. Every cell in his body told him to seize the opportunity.

‘God, yes. Sherlock,’ he hissed, ‘you smell so, _so_ good. I’m taking you to bed _now_.’

Sherlock wanted to ask many questions. Did John have feelings for him? Would this change things between them? But he couldn’t do it because a second later he was sprawled on the bed among heaps of cushions, his chest rising and falling as he gasped for air, and John was all over him ─the Alpha had lost his shirt, how had that even happened? Clothes prickled Sherlock’s sensitive skin and he tried to get rid of them. He wriggled out of his trousers and John helped him take off the rest. He’d thought it’d be a bit awkward, being naked in front of John, but it really wasn’t.

‘So beautiful,’ John said, brushing a nipple with his lips. He frowned a little. ‘I can’t think straight,’ he added.

‘I can’t either. But you have my consent. Mate with me,’ Sherlock smirked, and stretched his arms above his head, instinctively making himself look as alluring as he could. It was an Omega skill, and one that was often underplayed.

John nodded and within a second was straddling him, totally naked and flaunting a large erection; his hands and mouth were everywhere at once, and Sherlock was overwhelmed with sensation. He felt himself burning up as if he were lying in the sun, and more of the smooth, slightly sticky fluid drizzled onto the bedding under his bottom.

‘I’ve triggered it,’ John said in a low voice. He sounded pleased. Later Sherlock would piece it together and realize that he’d gone into full heat at the sight of John. At that moment, however, he wasn’t thinking at all.

His legs were pulled up a little and in no time something hard and hot pressed against his hole, then eased into it slowly. His body was designed for this so it didn’t hurt; the momentary discomfort as his muscles adjusted around John’s cock gave way to a steady stream of pleasure that coursed through Sherlock’s body in waves. John’s eyes were watery, lips curved into a delighted smile that Sherlock had never seen, and he breathed heavily through his nose and mouth. He smelled even better now, if such a thing was possible. Sherlock couldn’t hold back for long and climaxed the moment that John pulled back a little and thrust in again, hitting a spot whose name Sherlock couldn’t even remember ─not important, only the sensation mattered. He shuddered and spilled himself on both their stomachs and the bedding, adding to the sticky mess there. John groaned loudly, overstimulated by the way Sherlock’s muscles clenched through orgasm, and Sherlock could feel the base of his cock swelling.

‘Your knot,’ Sherlock mumbled, feeling himself stretch to accommodate it.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and motioned him to lie on his side, so that they were face to face, their legs tangled, his bodies as close together as they could possibly get. John’s knot kept his cock firmly in place, and Sherlock felt the Alpha’s grip on his waist tighten as he came for the first time, groaning loudly, filling Sherlock with his seed. Sherlock was happy, proud that the Alpha was enjoying it so much and getting pleasure from him.

John panted, kissing his lips, his chin, his neck over and over again. He paused right next to Sherlock’s scent gland and the spot that had to be bitten for an Omega to be bonded. He breathed out Sherlock’s name, and Sherlock craned his neck, allowing John to do as he wished.

‘I want you to be mine,’ John said. ‘But I know you don’t want it. Not really.’

Sherlock caressed John’s back with his fingers and smiled. He found his voice again. ‘I love you.’

John smiled back and nuzzled the crook of his neck, but he didn’t so much as nibble at it. ‘I love you too. I’ll ask you later, ok?’

Sherlock wasn’t disappointed. He trusted John. If he said to wait, it would be fine. John grabbed Sherlock’s hand gently and placed it on his arse. ‘Sherlock… could you…?’ he asked, and Sherlock understood. He touched the crack and teased around the ring of muscle with a fingertip, eliciting a moan from John’s lips. Then he stuck it in, twisting it around, marvelling at the tightness. John’s hand squeezed between their bodies and took hold of the Omega’s cock, fisting him slowly but firmly. Sherlock arched his back, writhing, all too aware of John inside of him and stroking him at the same time. He came again, and this time John followed shortly after, shooting more warm fluid into his body.

Sherlock lost track of time; he felt carried around in a whirlpool of pleasure, John’s warmth mingling with his own until he wasn’t sure whether he was still an individual or had become part of a bigger, better whole, one with John in it. At some point he felt John’s cock slide out of his body and he groaned in protest.

‘Sherlock,’ John said. ‘It’s ok. We’ll go on later. Our bodies need a rest.’ He laid his head on the pillow and turned to look at Sherlock; he moved slowly like a cat basking in the sun, and Sherlock found him endearing.

Sherlock sat up and frowned. His body didn’t burn so much and he could think again. He guessed there were periods of lucidity between couplings, although he couldn’t remember that being the case in the past. ‘What you gave me. I’m not gone all the time,’ he said.

‘That was the point,’ John sat by his side and kissed his shoulder. ‘I thought you’d appreciate it. Plus, I like you in-character.’

‘Do you, now?’ Sherlock reached for some more food and drink; he felt eerily happy. ‘I have lots of admirers,’ he said, teasing.

‘Is that so?’ John stretched one of his arms and grabbed a chocolate cookie, the other firmly in place around Sherlock’s waist.

‘Do you remember Jared, the young man whose sister we found?’

‘Yes,’ John said. ‘Of course I remember him. He’s a _kid_ , Sherlock.’

‘By now he’s a twenty-three year-old sexually mature Alpha with a few self-control issues. I’d say he is very good-looking though.’ Sherlock grinned as he saw John’s frown. ‘Not that I’m interested,’ he added.

‘Did he proposition you?’ There was a dark note to John’s voice. It amused Sherlock to no end how incredibly possessive Alphas got.

‘I said no. I’m just telling you because I think Daniel could handle him.’ The idea had just occurred to him and, childish as it seemed, playing matchmakers could be incredibly beneficial in this case.

John tilted his head to look at him. ‘Do you really think so, or are you just trying to get rid of Daniel for good?’

‘Both,’ Sherlock chuckled, then grew more serious. ‘Believe me, it would work. I believe your friend has had enough dickheads hit on him; Jared is a good kid, and he wants to be a good Alpha. He doesn’t look like the abusive type. You saw how upset he was about his sister. Daniel is running out of time, isn’t he?’

‘He smelled like his heat would start really soon, but I’m not sure. How would you set them up?’

‘Send him a message. I will text Jared; I believe I have his number. Let’s do it before it… starts again and I don’t care any longer.’ Sherlock kissed John’s cheek fondly.

It worked out better than he’d expected. John did his best in persuading Daniel, who thought that the Alpha’s age could be a major problem. Jared was excited and ─Sherlock thought─ really turned on by the idea of an ex-military Omega. The two of them got in touch and agreed to meet for a drink.

Two hours later, John took Sherlock’s hand between his own as they lay side by side on the bed.

‘Even when I thought you were a Beta, I had this fantasy. I wondered what might have happened if you’d been an Omega. I think I knew, deep down.’ His voice was soft, gentle.

‘This is better than I remembered, John,’ Sherlock said. ‘I didn’t… have feelings for any of my previous partners. I tried very hard to avoid being physically intimate with someone I didn’t like again. I also thought my work would be jeopardised if people knew.’

John’s lips found his own and Sherlock felt his body begin to respond again, readying for a second round. This would go on for three days, at least, and he was surprisingly okay with the idea.

‘Sherlock. It’s really soon and I know we have to consider it carefully. But would you bond with me?’

‘If I ever bond with anyone, it will be with you,’ Sherlock replied, caressing John’s biceps with his free hand. ‘Is that enough for now? I want to be… lovers first.’

He didn’t have any doubts, but he had just embraced his identity and thought it wise to wait, to live with John while being his own man a bit longer. Bonding was more serious than marriage; it entailed more than a physical connection. They would be able to sense what the other was feeling, especially when they were coping with intense emotion. It could help keep them both safe or, considering Sherlock’s occupation, put them both in great danger.

‘I never thought I’d get that much,’ John smiled, sighing a bit. ‘Being your lover sounds good. Now, if we can do what lovers do…’

‘And what is that, pray?’ Sherlock teased him, rolling away to the edge of the bed.

And it felt so good, having John chase him, pin him down, rut against Sherlock’s arse cheeks while he kissed his shoulder blades and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, his stockier body firm and perfect over Sherlock’s more slender, longer frame. They were in their bed, their home, their territory. Sherlock smiled as he clutched the pillow under his chin. _Their_ territory.

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done! Apologies for the delay, I've had real life throw some bad stuff my way. I hope you liked the smex (it was long overdue). Your comments are much appreciated, thank you for reading it all! <3


End file.
